


when I see a new day

by inexorableformation



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Parent Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Post-Recall, sombra also being reapers kid is mentioned, the illness is reapers condition btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexorableformation/pseuds/inexorableformation
Summary: adjective1.(of an illness) persisting for a long time or constantly recurring.
Relationships: Jesse McCree & Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	when I see a new day

**Author's Note:**

> This is much closer to what I usually write than the first fic I posted, this is very much on brand (tm) for me, just hit me with that supportive found family

McCree sends the message around 8pm.

'Did u forget we were gonna meet? U okay? :c'

He gets a reply about thirty seconds later.

'I didn't forget'.

McCree swings his legs off the common room table and starts trekking through the endless corridors of the Watchpoint. Eventually the metal walls start to look less worn and more polished. New and improved furniture. He frowns as much as he hurries.

"Athena," he says as he reaches the door. "Am I good to go in?"

The AI does not wait with her answer.

"You have been cleared to enter."

McCree does, pushes the door open with his shoulder and finds himself in the dark. The only light comes from the windows at the back, the sky outside muted and starlit. He sees silhouettes, ghosts. The door falls shut with a click behind him. McCree walks over to the couch, sighs.

"That bad?"

"Sorry," Reaper says, quiet. "I would've texted you sooner but I couldn't look at the screen without-"

He is lying on his back, stretched out on the couch and waves the arm that is not thrown over his face. His fingertips draw shapes into the air with smoke until there are no fingertips.

"You don't gotta apologize. D'you need anything? I can get you some ice. Or painkillers. Both? Possibly both."

"I'll take the painkillers. Thanks."

"Baptiste said they're supposed to work real fast. And not to take more than one at a time. More of an emergency measure."

"Got it. Hasn't been this bad in a while."

McCree rummages through cabinets and returns within a minute. Watches with furrowed brows as Reaper takes one of the pills. The vice grip on his heart chokes him as he sees the smoke shudder.

"Update me, boss."

Reaper coughs. His lips are a thin line, the white of his teeth bleeding through the spots where his skin decays.

"I'm tired. Really fucking tired."

McCree wavers.

"D'you want me to go? So you can get some sleep, maybe?"

"No," Reaper says immediately. "Stay."

"Gotcha."

McCree sits down on the couch and drapes Reaper's legs over his knees. Ignores the smoke pouring out of his mouth, the twitch in his disintegrating fingers. _No matter how far gone he seems, vaquero, he'll come back. He promised._

"How's the pain?"

"Today's not good."

"Okay. Anything I can do?"

"You're doing plenty," Reaper mumbles. "It's not great to be alone with this."

"That's why Athena let me in, 'm guessin'."

"Yeah. I gave her permission to allow you and Sombra in here whenever."

McCree nods for no one to see. Puts a hand on Reaper's right arm. Squeezes down with shaking fingers.

"Kid," Reaper says, soft. "I trust you with my life. You know that."

McCree exhales.

"Yeah. But I'm not the one who needs the support here right now."

"I'm always here for support."

"You're fallin' apart, boss, I can literally see your jaw melt."

"Still here, though, punk."

McCree laughs. The grip on his heart relents, for a moment.

"Update?" he asks.

"Exhausted. A bit dizzy. Pain isn't bad."

"I reckon you should get some sleep."

"I reckon you might be right."

McCree leans his head against the backrest, watches as Reaper finally drops his arm. Pitch-black eyes, for a second, before they close.

"Gnight," McCree says. "Feel better soon, dad."

Reaper hums. His lips twitch. The smoke is calm. Sleep comes, eventually.


End file.
